ALL CAPS (Rapper male reader x Arcane / KDA)

The beginning of a new life

Years passed, and the relentless grind of Zaun continued to shape you into a strong young man. The once small fragile boy with a knack for finding rhythm in the chaos of his surroundings you were, had grown into a brave, heavy hearted young man with dreams that stretched far beyond the smog-choked sky. At 18, You were no longer just a kid trying to survive—you were an artist, a musician, and someone who believed that music could be your way out of this place.

But no matter how much time passed, the memories of Powder still haunted you. It had been years since that night, but you could never forget the look in her eyes as she walked away. You hadn't seen her since, but you hoped, somewhere deep down, that she was still out there, finding her own way just like you were trying to do.

Your mother had always been your rock, working long hours in the factories to keep a roof over your heads and food on the table. She'd aged more in the past few years than you cared to admit, the harsh conditions of Zaun leaving their mark on her. You worried about her constantly—about the way she coughed after a long shift, about the tired lines etched into her face, and about the sacrifices she made for you every single day.

Despite everything, she always had a smile for you, always encouraged your dreams even when they seemed impossible. She'd noticed your growing passion for music, the way you spent hours piecing together beats and verses on your scrap instruments, finding solace in the sounds you created. And without you knowing, she'd been saving every scrap of coin she could spare, putting aside money bit by bit for something she knew would mean the world to you.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling day, you came home to find your mother sitting at the table, a small, wrapped bundle in her hands. Her eyes were tired, but there was a glint of excitement in them that he hadn't seen in a long time, and a weak smile appears on her lips when she sees you.

"Ma, what's that?" you asked, setting your things down and moving toward her.

She smiled softly and pushed the bundle toward him. "Open it."

You hesitated. You could see the weariness in her face, the exhaustion that had become a constant in their lives. Whatever was inside that bundle, you knew it had cost her more than just money. It had cost her time, energy—pieces of herself that she couldn't afford to give.

Slowly, you unwrapped the bundle, and your breath caught in your throat. Inside was a second-hand laptop, old but still functional, its screen flickering to life as you opened it. For a moment, you couldn't speak, couldn't process what this meant.

"Ma, how... how did you afford this?" your voice was thick with emotion, a mixture of shock, gratitude, and guilt. A lump grew in your throat as you think of the burden she took on to afford this.

"I've been saving for a while," she said, reaching out to touch your hand. "I know how much your music means to you, y/n. You've got talent, real talent, and I want you to have every chance to make something of it."

You stared at the laptop, your heart heavy with conflicting feelings. You were grateful, more than you could ever express, but there was also a deep, gnawing guilt that you couldn't shake. She had given up so much for him, worked herself to the bone, and now this... It didn't feel right.

"Ma, you didn't have to... I don't deserve this," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She squeezed your hand gently. "You deserve the world, my son. Don't ever think otherwise. This is your chance to follow your dreams. Don't let it go to waste."

You nod, though the guilt still lingered, heavy in your chest. You promised yourself then and there that you would make it worth it, that he would use this gift to build something that could lift them both out of this life. You tightly embrace your mother as you think of releasing your first song.

Over the next few weeks, you poured himself into your music like never before. The laptop opened up new possibilities—you could finally record tracks properly, experiment with different sounds, and refine your verses. You spent countless nights hunched over the keyboard, crafting beats and writing lyrics that spoke to his experiences, to the struggles of life in Zaun, and to the dreams that kept you going. You create some social media accounts, and dwell on what your name would be.

You eventually settled on DOOM, thinking it was cool and simple, being easy to remember.

But even with the new tools at your disposal, money was still tight. The little you earned from selling scrap barely covered the essentials, let alone anything extra. Still, you saved every bit you could, skipping meals and sleep, until you had just enough to take the next step.

One late night, after finishing what you knew would be your best track yet, and a perfect starting track, you made your way to a run-down record shop in one of Zaun's quieter districts. The place was dimly lit, the equipment outdated, but it was enough. You slipped the clerk a few coins for an hour of time, and entered one of the small recording studios, barely bigger than a closet.

You quickly began rapping into the mic, making sure to finish the entire song in the hour you could afford, eventually finishing your lyrics with a grin as you run home, excited to publish your first ever track and hopeful for its success.

Your hands trembled slightly as you uploaded the song. It was an introductory song, a song proving his skill and instilling his monicker. it was quick and had a unique rhyming scheme never seen before. As you finish piecing it together, carefully intertwining the music with your lyrics, you settle on the name All Caps.

MF DOOM - All caps

With a deep breath, you published it to all your social media platforms, and close the laptop, exhaling nervously.

As you laid back on your bed, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter. For the first time in years, you felt like you were doing something—something that mattered, something that could change your life. The song was out there now, and with it, a piece of your heart.

All you could do now was wait, hope, and keep creating. Because no matter what happened, you knew one thing for sure: your music was your path forward, and you weren't going to let anything stop you from walking it.